


Feeling Thorny

by Captain_Meowvel



Series: Love Square Kisses [5]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Beta-read by writeringoodfaith, F/M, Funny, Humor, I couldn't resist a rose pun innuendo as the title (purrlease furgive me), I mean EVENTUALLY it gets funny, It starts out sentimental because I'm hopeless, Kissing, Making Out, Marichat, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Neck Kissing, Pre-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Romance, Rough Kissing, The fic goes into this but they're 18 here, but we're all about our girl pining for Chat let's be real here people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Meowvel/pseuds/Captain_Meowvel
Summary: Four years ago, Chat Noir extended a rose between his gloved fingers. Pink for respect, for admiration, for friendship. Tonight, he offered another, but this time it wasn’t pink, and it certainly wasn’t between his fingers. It was between his teeth. She was in trouble.(Pre-reveal Marichat makeouts.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Love Square Kisses [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785649
Comments: 34
Kudos: 247





	Feeling Thorny

**Author's Note:**

> Here! Have some Marichat fluff and makeouts! This was drummed up for a writing exercise using a prompt my beta, writeringoodfaith, picked out for me. Hope you like it!
> 
> The prompts are from here: https://kashimalin-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/178524845380/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts
> 
> Today’s prompt was: ‘A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.’

**FEELING THORNY  
By Captain Meowvel**

They’d done this for months: the banter, the laughter, the late-night movies. By this point, it was an unspoken routine. Why should tonight be any different?

Her parents would turn in early. She’d place a polished tray of treats on her desk and slip into her sleepwear - a silk button-up shirt with matching pink shorts. Two taps on glass would coax out a smile, and her strawberry lip balm would gleam in the soft lamplight.

“Come in, Kitty,” she’d call.

And he always did.

His leather boots (with those admittedly adorable toe caps) would greet her baby pink bedspread with the faintest of thumps.

“Bonsoir, Marimouse,” he’d say.

She always answered with an eye roll.

Bedsprings groaning, he’d launch off the mattress, flip through the air, and his boots would peck the parquet floor with practiced precision.

Like always, their eyes met – _reunited_ , she briefly thought.

And then normality ended.

For there, flaunted between those dazzlingly white teeth, was a single, thornless rose.

Marinette stilled. Her eyes went wide. She couldn’t _see_ her blush, but by God, could she _feel_ it.

Those peach pink lips curved into one of his classic lopsided grins. Was this the reaction he’d hoped for? Or at least, the one he’d expected?

Her mind dove four years back, to that super awkward Sunday brunch they’d shared with her parents. He’d presented a rose then too.

A pink one.

Pink for respect, for admiration, for friendship.

This rose wasn’t pink.

No, it was _red_.

Red for longing, for passion, for ardent love.

It was fierce and breath-taking and utterly flawless, its every quality rivalled only by the blushing kitty who plucked it from his mouth to flourish toward her in one gloved hand, his other pressed to his heart. “For you, Princess.” He gazed at her, patiently, fondly, his eyes bright and green like precious tourmaline.

“Chat—”

All remaining words caught in her throat. Only then, as her eyes traced those full lips, did she realise how breathless he’d made her; how breathless he _could_ make her; how breathless she _longed_ for him to make her.

There was a thundering in her ears.

An ache in her veins.

A hastened pace to her every breath.

At one time, such sensations were familiar around another blond boy, but with him, she’d hesitated. Kagami hadn’t, and he’d dated her for three months. It had taken a year for the gracious hands of time to mend Marinette’s wounded heart.

But now, that was three years ago. Practically ancient history.

Chat Noir was her present. He could be her future too, if she damn well didn’t hesitate.

And she _wouldn’t_.

Not this time.

Anticipation burned in his eyes, his cheeks the same shade as the flower in his hand. He held it to her like a question, a promise.

“Yes.”

The single word was as breathless as her last, but he heard it. She knew by the adorable twitch of his cat ears. They always did that when she whispered, be it during a stealthy battle or in her bedroom at some ungodly hour. He didn't know she was his lady. Until Hawk Moth was defeated, he _couldn't_. But when his ears twitched that way, it was like her voice had a frequency all its own, one his heart knew well, even as his mind went on unaware.

His own voice, deep and rich and so utterly perfect, drew her from her reveries. “Yes?” His mussed locks swayed as he tilted his head. The most adorably clueless look overran his chiselled features.

It was then that Marinette realised he hadn’t _technically_ asked her a question.

She really had a knack for getting ahead of herself.

But then again, so did he.

A laugh leapt from her lips. “Yes!” This time, the word came as a squeak, the sound sudden, shaky, bursting with unbridled joy. He _still_ hadn’t asked her a question, but damn it, she didn’t trust herself to string anything more coherent together just yet. “Yes yes _yes_!” She threw herself into his arms. Warm arms. Strong arms. Shaped by five years of saving their city, five years of fighting by her side, five years of unparalleled friendship.

Chat Noir hadn’t expected her to lunge at him. She knew by the split-second shock on his face; how those green eyes had flown wide. Yet, his arms were accepting, weaving around her as though she belonged there.

She did.

Oh, how she did.

And she always would.

Marinette buried her face into the curve of his neck. She savoured the earthiness of his scent, the comforting weight of his embrace, the climbing pace of a pulse that wasn’t her own.

There was a hum in his chest as he laughed, low and playful. “I see _yes_ is the word of the day.” He smoothed a gloved hand up her waist, along her bare shoulder, and swept it through her hair. “I’m _purrfectly_ fine with that.”

Her giggle was soft, sleepy. His fingers slipped through her hair a fifth time, a sixth, a delightful seventh. “I thought _you_ were the cat here, but I could really get used to this.”

“I should probably warn you”—she could practically _hear_ his smirk—“I’m a firm believer of the old saying: I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine.” After one final sweep through her hair, his hand cupped the back of her head, his other swirling across the small of her back. “So, I’m expecting _lots_ of ear scratches as payment. I hope you’re prepared.”

A smirk tugged at her lips. “Pretty sure _you’re_ the one who needs to prepare, Kitty. My ear scratching skills are _unfurgettable_.”

He laughed again, the sound vibrating in his chest. God, she could stay like this all night, revelling in his voice, his laugh, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Serious question,” he said, despite the lightness in his voice. “Have you accepted my humble offering? Which may or may not now be a trampled mess on the floor.” Another chuckle buzzed in his chest. “I mean, not that I mind you jumping me.” If she’d been looking at his face, she’d have probably been on the receiving end of a playful wink.

Marinette drew back from his neck as though doing so was a chore. Honestly, it was.

Until he ensnared her with those magnetic eyes and that heart-melting smile and those tiny dimples that indented his cheeks in the most adorable way.

“I’ll accept your humble offering.” She skimmed a hand up his chest, the leather hot beneath her fingertips. “But for a purrice.”

Chat’s eyes gleamed. “Now you’re meowing my love language.” Smile remaining, he slipped a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Name your purrice, My Princess.”

Her breath hitched, her chest burning with elation, as that nickname left his lips. Not because it was new. It wasn’t. But he’d never prefaced it with a “My” before.

She loved the sound of that.

Of being _his_.

As they’d matured, in every sense of the word, her mind had wandered through daydreams of her kitty like a movie reel stuck on repeat. Of his lips claiming hers. Of her body pinned beneath him. Of wandering hands. But as his late-night visits had increased in frequency and they’d grown closer beyond the confinement of her mask, thoughts were no longer enough.

Her appreciation of him had heightened too. More and more, Marinette’s eyes dared to wander, to drink in that athletic physique, wrapped in leather and sculpted by superheroing. More and more, her lips spelt compliments, unleashed puns, and spread into wholehearted smiles in the light of his presence. More and more, her self-restraint wilted, while her ardour went on to blossom and thrive.

Marinette gripped his bell and tugged him close. Her heart hammered in her chest, her ears, so loud he surely heard it. “My purrice for your offering?” She wet her lips, tasting strawberry. That drew his eye. “A kiss from my kitty?”

He leaned closer. “Purrhaps _two_ kiss—”

One tug of his bell. Marinette brought his lips down to hers. It was a soft kiss. A fleeting kiss. So sudden she had no time to tremble, and he had no time to kiss back. In the seconds that followed, the imprint of his lips still lingered on hers, and her every anxiety evaporated, replaced by the thrilling prospect of something new and exciting and _real_.

He gazed at her lips, his tongue idly tracing his own. His cat-eyes were half-lidded and hazed, rife with emotions unknown. That made her stomach coil. Usually, those eyes were an open book, an invitation. She’d happened upon every emotion they were capable of. Or so she’d thought. Tonight, it seemed, was a first for many things.

“You’re oddly quiet,” she whispered, grip tightening on his bell. “Cat got your—”

Chat seized her lips, fierce and feral, his claws clutching her hips, pulling her close. His scent enveloped her senses—sweet, spicy, downright _intoxicating_. Her fingers explored the straining muscles of his chest, his shoulders, his neck, as their lips fought for dominance. For once, he refused to follow. For once, she accepted defeat.

His tongue dipped between the seam of her mouth, melding with hers in a dizzying dance. Chat tasted of caramel lip balm, of comfort and sheer perfection. He drank deeply of her with a staggering thirst, his gloved hands tracing her back, her waist, the hint of skin at her hips. He gripped her glutes, hoisting her off the floor, and her legs latched around him, the leather of his suit hot against her bare thighs.

Feverish hands plunged into the silken gold of his hair to clasp his cat ears. A wild growl thundered in his throat. He staggered three steps forward and slammed her to a wall, his lips capturing her gasp as posters rustled to the floor. His right hand hit the wall. His left caressed her cheek. Every delectable inch of his body was flush against hers, a silent disclosure of his deepest desires.

Chat’s lips pressed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her temple, as his every heaving breath flooded her mind like a symphony. He traced his tongue up her jawline. “No cat got my tongue,” he husked in her ear, “but one sure got _yours_.” He took her earlobe in his teeth, and she arched against him.

“Even when you’re hot,” she panted, as his lips peppered her jawline, “you’re _still_ a massive dork.”

His teeth grazed her flushed neck, breath burning her skin. “All I got from that,” he breathed, “is that you think I’m hot.”

A smile played on her lips. “I hope that wasn’t your _first_ clue.” She kneaded his cat ears – a woman of her word – and relished the groan that reeled from his lips; the way his hips bucked against hers; how he clung to her hair.

Their lips reunited, joining like a harmony, soft and sweet and so beautifully in sync.

She should’ve expected this. The blossoming feelings. This equal longing. These perfect kisses.

They were yin and yang.

Push and pull.

Two halves of a brilliant whole.

For years, she’d pushed her silly kitty away.

Now, she caressed the curve of that chiselled jaw and pulled those lips ever closer. They were uncharted territory, and she planned to map every delicious inch of them before the night was over.

**Author's Note:**

> As someone who can count the kiss scenes she’s written on one hand, I hope you guys enjoyed this. It started out super sentimental, which is honestly so typical of me. I had to keep reminding myself that the prompt was just to have them make out. Two thousand words later… LOL! That aside, hopefully I pulled off the prompt and some decent Marichat makeouts! :D
> 
> If you’d like to get in on an awesome Miraculous community, join the [Miraculous Fanworks Discord server](https://discord.gg/mlfanworks)! :D
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://captainmeowvelwrites.tumblr.com)!


End file.
